


Like That Marvin Gaye Song

by gloss



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blow Jobs, Comedy, LITERALLY, M/M, Magical Healing Cock, OTP Feels, Porn with Feelings, Sheith69min
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-08 18:29:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15935900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: Allura's revival of Shiro has unexpected consequences. In his pants.For#sheith69minon Twitter: themehealing.





	Like That Marvin Gaye Song

**Author's Note:**

> [Sexual Healing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rjlSiASsUIs).

Keith is greedy, he's the first to admit it. Now that he's got Shiro, he can't let go. Can't stop touching and kissing and doing everything he'd longed to do for so long.

"Helping yourself to the Shiro smorgasbord, I get it," Hunk says while they're sparring. "Man's a delicious array of lustful options if that's your thing." He switches his hands on his staff and dances back. "And that's _definitely_ your thing."

Keith circles him. "I'm not talking about this with you."

"Aren't you?" Hunk plants his bo stick and spun, sweeping his leg, sending Keith tumbling back. "Ha! That's one for me, mumble-grumble thousands for you."

"Shit." Keith must have smacked his head against the wall, fallen at a bad angle, because his jaw flares with pain now.

"Oh, crap." Hunk helps him up. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I guess so." Keith tests his jaw, but it hurts to move and his mouth's got blood in it. "Let's...I'm going to go take care of this. Pick this up later?"

"Yeah, man, of course. You want to go to the med station?"

"No, I'll just—" Keith doesn't finish that statement. He's dazed, still slowed and off-balance with surprise, as he heads for his bunk.

He naps for a bit, gets up to rinse out his mouth, swallow some painkillers, and check himself in the mirror—his jaw's swollen on one side, a bruise darkening up into his hairline—before lying back down. He wakes again to find the room dim with twilight and Shiro sneaking around trying to be quiet.

"Hey," Keith says thickly.

"You up?" Shiro asks and sits on the edge of the bunk. "You really shouldn't sleep if you're concussed."

"Not concussed. Just banged up." Keith pulls himself forward, wrapping himself around Shiro, burying his face against Shiro's chest. After a moment, Shiro's hand settles in Keith's hair.

"The concussed one is usually the worst at diagnosing the concussion," Shiro says.

Keith looks up and smirks with the half of his face that doesn't throb. "You should know."

Shiro nods at that; it's not like he can argue. "Let me look at you."

He pinches Keith's chin lightly, tips back his head, looks him over. It could be clinical, just what you do for a comrade in the field, except for how Keith's shirtless and looking back at him through his lashes, and for how Shiro _really_ takes his time, hand sliding up Keith's jaw, cupping his head, pulling him in for a kiss.

Keith scrambles to readjust, to grab at Shiro's shoulders and swing himself over to straddle Shiro's lap, to kiss until he's out of breath and aching for more.

 _Greedy_ , remember? He's fine with that.

"Easy, tiger," Shiro murmurs. He's supporting Keith around the waist with one arm, hand splayed on Keith's lower back. "You're in no condition to—"

"I am," Keith insists. He really is. He's not going to waste any time _now_. He chafes his hands up and down Shiro's shoulders. "I'm in great condition for this. For anything." When Shiro snorts at that, Keith scowls. "Okay, maybe I won't be blowing you tonight, but—"

"Ah," Shiro says mournfully and pouts and tries to look downcast. "But you _said_ —"

"Okay, fine, I'm totally doing this."

"Keith! I'm kidding. Come on—"

"No, _you_ come on!" On his knees now, pushing Shiro's legs apart, Keith looks up, his eyes narrowed; he was both fiercely determined and, honestly, slightly loopy. 

"Keith," Shiro says. He says Keith's name all the time. It means a million things, depending on tone and where they are and what his face is doing, but every single one of those meanings has its own tenderness and concern attached. Right now, this _Keith_ means _I don't think this is a good idea. Are you all right?_

Keith tips up his chin. "Yeah, let's do this."

Shiro takes several more moments, looking at Keith, pushing his hair back out of his eyes, finally just touching his fingertips against Keith's lips.

 _Greedy_. Keith opens his mouth and sucks three fingers inside, just down to the first knuckle, while he looks at Shiro and dares him to stop now. In the shadows, Shiro's face is intent, even a little grave, but he's starting to react. His breathing shifts, his mouth opens, he spreads his legs just that much more.

That's all Keith needs; he pushes his mouth down Shiro's fingers, rolls them over his tongue, tries to test his gag on them. Shiro grunts, twists his fingers to drag the tips against Keith's palate, then probe deeper.

The pain from Keith's injury is still here, throbbing, occasionally jolting, but it's suffused inside rapidly spreading horniness. Keith crawls forward, works his hands blindly at Shiro's waist only to find his fly already open.

"I got you," Shiro whispers, cupping the back of Keith's skull, and there's something reverent in his voice that cuts oddly-but-deliciously through the horniness, bolstering it up, making it better. "Keith."

Keith grunts, concentrating on getting Shiro's dick out; Shiro rises a little so his pants come down, and then Keith's got it, got his hand wrapped around Shiro's shaft and he jacks it several times, gets it the rest of the way hard.

"You're so _stubborn_." Shiro leans a little back, lifting his hips now, tightening his hold on Keith's hair. 

"You are," Keith mutters. "I mean, seriously."

It's Shiro's laughter that stokes the last of his greed, like tossing a Cartier necklace in front of dragon. All Keith has to do is hear that fond chuckle, coming up from deep inside Shiro, and he's _gone_ , blinded by need, spit overrunning his mouth.

He works half of Shiro's cock into his mouth before bobbing his head so rapidly his vision blurs. He twangs his tongue against the glans' flare on each upstroke, gets Shiro groaning without stopping for breath, then takes in more, and more, swallowing spit and gags until Shiro pops into his throat and Keith really does go blind. Shiro's nails scrabble against his scalp, his ass rises to push and buck, and he just keeps on groaning.

When he yanks on Keith's hair, tries to pull him off, Keith redoubles effort, stays down, chin flattening Shiro's balls, Shiro's pubes scouring Keith's scar and bruise. Several endless, choking moments pass before Shiro twitches, twists, cries out and starts pumping into Keith.

Keith swallows and eases up, licking up the come as it spills, so when Shiro is done, so is Keith, popping his mouth off the shiny-clean dick and grinning.

"You little _bastard_ ," Shiro says, lightly, the words terrible but the tone absolutely sweet, as he lies back and opens his arms. Keith crawls up him and spreads himself like a blanket over Shiro's torso.

After a bit, when Shiro's returned to himself, he touches Keith's face. "How's the jaw?"

"It's fine," Keith says automatically, like he would to any such inquiry. Then he stops and touches it himself. "No, wait. It _is_ fine. It's—great?"

"Really?" Shiro's doubt nearly curdles those syllables.

"Really!" Keith sits up and turns his head back and forth. "No pain. Is it swollen?"

"No," Shiro says. "Not at all."

"You're magic," Keith says, teasingly.

"...huh."

*

Later, they add up the scrapes and aches that Keith has had disappear after fucking Shiro: jammed fingers, pilot's knee, that cavity in one molar.

Shiro asks Allura, in confidence, what could be going on, but she consults Coran, whose knowledge of specifically _erotic_ alchemy far outstrips her own.

At the word _erotic_ , Keith needs to leave the room. Coran arrives just then, however, beaming and chattering.

"Sounds to me you've got quite the case of what we used to call lucky-doodle-balrogan!"

"Which is?" Shiro asks.

"As a side-effect of sustained magical healing, you in turn possess a modicum of regenerative powers, via your—" Coran twists one end of his mustache and throws out his chest. "Generative organs, if you will."

"His.... Oh, goodness," Allura says.

"I'm not here," Keith puts in. "I was never here, none of this is happening."

Shiro squeezes his hand as he nods slowly. "The strategic significance of this is not to be discounted."

Keith puts his face in his hands. "Kill me."

"No point!" Coran cackles. "Shiro's magic penis will just bring you back!"


End file.
